


To Follow in Her Footsteps

by Spudato



Series: Carnage AU [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, White Fang AU, hi welcome to my Rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 23:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10864008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spudato/pseuds/Spudato
Summary: Nobody likes a copycat, which is a problem when that's what Velvet's very semblance is. Cinder disagrees.





	To Follow in Her Footsteps

**Author's Note:**

> This is a shortfic that takes place in 'The Art of Immolation', which is a sizeable White Fang AU I'm currently writing! This doesn't contain any (major) spoilers for the actual plot of the Real Thing, but if you like this, you'll love TAOI, so stay tuned. B)

Velvet’s deep in the middle of training, performing an onslaught on some invisible opponent in the middle of the church floor, when Cinder glances up from what she’s reading. She’d been that way for a while, curled up on some great crimson cushion she’d propped against a single stone altar near the back of the church. Save for the occasional crisp turn of a page and the rasp of bare feet against the stone floor as the Faunus worked through the motions, it’d been peaceful. That was, of course, until Velvet could feel Cinder’s curious gaze land right between her shoulder blades, slowing her punches until she dropped her guard completely. With a pant for air, Velvet rolled her shoulders and turned on her heel, looking at Cinder just in time for the woman to ask what her semblance was.

It makes her pause. It’s not a new question, of course - from the very moment Velvet’s Aura had been unlocked not days after joining the White Fang, rookies and veterans alike had all had the same question on the tips of their tongues. Just like the surety of a sunrise or the inevitable fall of rain, her semblance was sure to develop, manifesting along the crackle of a new yet familiar energy that ran under her skin. It had been a rite of passage, the Fang giving her the gift to go toe-to-toe with Hunters and Grimm alike if she so chose, and for days afterwards every pair of eyes had looked to her with wonder.

Not all had been pleased to hear how it had manifested.

“Mimicry.”

Cinder’s brow rises, and for a moment Velvet feels like she needs to defend herself, but instead all that falls out of her mouth is, “Blake calls it a copycat semblance when we spar together.”

It was meant as a joke but instead Cinder’s head just tilts to one side, eyebrows lowering to knit into a frown. It’s an adorable motion, not that Velvet would say it out loud at any time other than the dead of night. “Mimicry? How does that work?”

Velvet had wondered the same thing the day she’d figured it out, sparring with Blake in the early hours of the morning at a White Fang hideaway. She was the rookie recruit still, newly initiated and unproven as of yet, and Blake had been considered enough of a veteran to show her the ropes. Back then, fighting was all Velvet could do - her skin still itched where she’d felt her parent’s blood splatter onto her face, and something had gnawed at her marrow and granted her no reprieve from nightmares. But feeling the rush of victory made her feel  _ useful _ , like she was taking the first wobbly steps into an new, untested future. So it’d been then, blocking blow after blow, when suddenly something had just  _ clicked _ . She’d thought of Blake, thinking of how artfully they dodged her heavy swings, dancing across the mat like they walked on air, and just like stepping off the edge of some great chasm Velvet just  _ knew _ . Like it’d been there all along.

Trust Cinder to ask the difficult questions first. “Uh, it’s… it’s complicated.”

There’s a pause, and Velvet takes the chance to wipe at a damp forehead with the back of her hand, looking up to watch Cinder’s expression fall into a smile. She huffs out a laugh, closing the book on her lap with a thud, and judging from the ancient leather cover it’s one of the holy books that’s scattered around the church still. Reclining back on the cushion, Cinder lets herself sink into the depths before she speaks leisurely, lazily, with half-lidded eyes. “Try me.”

Velvet’s tongue tastes salt as she licks her lips, hands flexing into fists at her sides. She thinks for a minute, trying to order her words before she speaks. Thinks about it a little longer. Decides to go for it anyway. “Well, it’s a memory thing. Mostly. Whatever I see, I can just… copy. Just like that.” Velvet snaps a finger on ‘that’, and Cinder’s eyes open wider in curiosity.

“Connected to your  _ memory _ ? How so?”

There’s not a whole lot Velvet can say here, so she shrugs. “It’s like I can just… well, I’ve always thought of it as something to do with muscle memory? So long as I can remember it, I can copy it exactly how they did it. Like- okay, say I watch Blake fight, yeah?” Cinder nods once. “If I remember that fight pretty clearly, I can do what Blake did. Or their opponent. All I have to do is watch.”

“And if you can’t remember?”

Another shrug. “Then I can’t copy it. Or, at least, not as well.”

Velvet can remember that spar with Blake, though. Facing down a barrage of hits, Velvet had been thinking of how Blake could avoid her punches like the Faunus was made of water rather than flesh and blood, and for that moment she’d wanted to be able to do the same so  _ badly _ , to move just like they did. 

And then, she  _ could _ . Suddenly, no matter how hard Blake tried, they couldn’t catch up to her anymore. She’d been gloriously, wondrously untouchable, copying Blake step for step like they’d fought together all their lives.

Meanwhile, as Velvet’s turning the memory over in her mind, Cinder’s mulling something over with a deeply furrowed brow, sitting upright to cradle her chin in her hands. “Shame. Seems the memory is the only major drawback. Would be nice to store up all the knowledge forever, wouldn’t it?”

Velvet blinks, and then she jabs a thumb over one shoulder, pointing to her Scroll on the far table near the church doors. “Well, that’s why I take photos, actually. I’m a pretty visual person, so the photos help jog my memory, y’know?” Velvet knows Cinder’s always wondered about that, watching with a bemused look as Velvet took photos of everything from bar fights to dancers, but when she offers that final puzzle piece Cinder’s entire face lights up with a glowing realisation.

“How  _ clever _ ! Supplementing your own memory!”

The praise makes Velvet blush all the way up to the base of her ears and down the back of her neck. “Y-yeah, well. Eventually, if I practise the motions enough, I can do them from memory anyway.  _ My _ memory, I mean.”

That was the part of her semblance people liked a whole lot less. Being able to copy years’ worth of work in a matter of seconds tended to rub people wrong even in the Fang, although Velvet had never really seen reason for it. She’d never remember all their styles forever, photos or not, and another downside to her mimicry is that she copies the imperfections, too. Once Velvet’s learnt the styles for herself she can start ironing out the flaws and missteps, but until then there’s always the risk that the style she’s copying is more of a misfiring gun than the efficient weapon she needs. Then again, no semblance is ever really perfect.

Orange eyes are analysing Velvet all over, as if Cinder’s seeing her for the first time all over again, face set like she’s trying to figure out a complicated mathematical problem. “Is there anything you can’t copy at all?”

“Videos.” Velvet’s never been sure why. “There’s something about having to physically  _ see _ it, I guess. But if I see it in person, I can do it.” She pauses, and then adds, “Which is why the Fang had me making detonators and bombs and stuff, ‘cause I never made a mistake if I copied from a master.”

The  _ look _ on Cinder’s face is nothing short of ecstatic. “You really  _ are _ a jack of all trades. How fascinating.”

Cinder’s gaze isn’t so curious anymore, and now Velvet can feel it roam across her freckled skin, focusing on the sweat-soaked hollow of her throat. She places the book aside, careful with its fragile state, and then she stands, brushing off her dress and plucking at neck of her loose cardigan to secure it around her shoulders. She’s shorter than both Blake and Velvet by a considerable margin, so it takes quite a few step to cross over to the open space where the Faunus stands. Still, when she stands before Velvet it doesn’t stop her from feeling a touch intimidated. Short or not, Cinder has always had an aura around her that demands your absolute attention, so when she puts a hand on Velvet’s rounded shoulder to slowly pull her closer, Velvet’s quick to obey, stooping down until their noses are barely touching.

“So tell me.” Cinder’s breath is warm and smoky against Velvet’s face, like her very lungs are the bellows of a forge, and Velvet has to swallow thickly when her eyes meet Cinder’s. “What  _ else _ can you copy? Truly everything?”

It’s hard to speak, hard to  _ think _ when all Velvet can see is twin pools of magma, inviting her to topple in headfirst and find out if she can touch the bottom. “Y-yeah. Just about.”

All Cinder whispers is  _ show me _ before she pulls Velvet down for a kiss, hungry and warm and wanting and although Velvet’s never copied a kiss before, has never really needed to, Cinder offers enough of a demonstration that she soon gets the idea.

Rest assured, though, that when she trails kisses down the length of Cinder’s naked back later that night, every single one is her own.


End file.
